


Diamonds in the Night

by Queen_of_Run_On_Sentences



Series: DreamNotFound Songfics [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Bottom Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Boys Kissing, Frottage, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Maybe Not Actually Unrequited Love, Songfic, Top GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Unrequited Love, excessive use of commas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29237220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_of_Run_On_Sentences/pseuds/Queen_of_Run_On_Sentences
Summary: Dream wants George, so fucking much.But Dream's never been able to get what he wants, has he?***George is beautiful, that's strikingly obvious, but the way the moon makes him glow is making George appear iridescent.  Dream chugs the rest of his cup, thinking to himself it isn't fucking fair, how gorgeous the other man is.  He doesn't even know it, always deflecting Dream's compliments, and it isn't fair, none of it."Dream, why are you out here?"
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: DreamNotFound Songfics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2146875
Comments: 27
Kudos: 81





	Diamonds in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS NOW A 4 CHAPTER STORY ILL BE POSTING CHAPTER TWO SOON
> 
> Please do not share with George or Dream, if they're uncomfortable with this work it will be taken down immediately

_(Nothing feels better)_   
_("I'm not really drunk, I never get that fucked up")_   
_("I'm not, I'm so sober!")_

They're at some party, Dream can't really remember. All he knows is that he's tipsy. He's tipsy and his friends are somewhere he isn't and that's fine, really, it is. Maybe he came to see his friends, maybe he came to get drunk enough he can't remember his own name. Or George's for that matter. George, who is the best person he's ever met. George, who is so fucking smart, and kind, and wholesome. George, whose name lives rent free in Dream's mind. His mind is a mantra of "GeorgeGeorgeGeorge" and sometimes he can't tell if he loves it or hates it.

All he knows is that this pink drink in his hand is making things so much worse and he can't take this. He really can't, his mind is a hurricane and his heart is a wasteland of broken promises and all he feels right now is guilt, guilt, guilt because he knows George isn't sitting in some room, analyzing their every interaction to see if there's even a hint of the same affection in his mind for Dream. Dream knows this, and yet all he wants, all he craves is George.

He isn't drunk, he's not, but his mind is swirling deeper and deeper and his heart aches for a love he can't seem to find.

_I love to see you shine in the night_   
_Like the diamond you are_

George finds him, an hour later, he walks outside and the moon shining off of George makes him look otherworldly. George is beautiful, that's strikingly obvious, but the way the moon makes him glow is making George appear iridescent. Dream chugs the rest of his cup, thinking to himself it isn't fucking fair, how gorgeous the other man is. He doesn't even know it, always deflecting Dream's compliments, and it isn't fair, none of it.

"Dream, why are you out here?"

Dream looks at George and smiles, maybe it comes off a little sad, maybe George won't notice it. "I was just thinking, why, something happen?" George looks at him quizzically. "No, was just wondering where you went off to." Dream's heart stutters, but he doesn't bother trying to look too deep into it. George can barely say 'I love you' so Dream doesn't hold any hope that his love for the older is returned, it'd be futile.

Dream sighs softly enough so that he's the only one that hears it, "Let's join the others then, I'm sure they're missing your presence, King George," George laughs and shoves at his shoulder lightly, "Shut up, Dream!" Then they're both half laughing, half stumbling to the sliding glass door, and back into the house with their friends.

  
_I'm good on the side, it's alright_   
_Just hold me in the dark_

They find their friends huddled in a circle on the floor, Karl talking idly on his phone to who Dream thinks is Corpse based on the deep baritone he can barely hear from Karl's phone. Sapnap is leaning onto Skeppy, who is half laying on Bad. Quackity must be off somewhere, probably looking for more booze. Dream takes a seat next to Karl's right, George sits beside Sapnap. George has been staying in Dream's spare bedroom, and he's still got a week left of his visit before he returns home. Dream has been trying to make his stay as awesome as he could. Despite his feelings for his best friend, his heart yearns for the love he consistently gives George. He knows George loves him, he just doesn't love him the way that Dream wants him to.

Quackity comes back into the room, and in his hands are indeed more booze, but he's also holding a little black box. "What is that," Sapnap questions, and all heads turn to Quackity as he sets the box down, and he says, "a card game, dumbass. We are gonna play Cards Against Humanity! But drunk version. Essentially, any time someone reads a black card, whichever white card is chosen to be the funniest, the losers all take a shot."

George groans, and Dream's mind flashes to George's hands in his hair, pulling him forward into a heated kiss, George's hands pulling at his hair, pulling at his clothes, pulling him closer somehow. George just pulls, pulls, pulls.

Dream snaps out of it by Quackity placing a pile of white cards in front of him. "So, when you lay down a white card, always pick one up to always have seven in your hand. On the off chance the black card says to put more than one answer, always pick up the amount of cards you laid down, got it?"

There's a chorus of agreements, and then the game begins. Quackity lays down the first black card, reading out "What's a girl's best friend?"

Dream cackles quietly before laying down his card. When all the white cards are laid down, plus a random piece of paper Karl had written on, Quackity reads out all the answers. "What's a girl's best friend? " Quackity shuffles the white cards and then reads them aloud, "pooping in a laptop and then closing it, Vladimir Putin, prescription pain killers, spectacular abs, man meat, some guy, and my genitals."

The group laughs, and Quackity ponders before he answers, "Well, 'my genitals' of course."

There's a deep laugh and then a "Yes!" coming from Karl's phone and the group groans, then all take a shot since Corpse's answer won.

They play like that until most of them are too drunk to function. They all mixed up their black cards they won, so nobody actually knows who had the most points, just that suddenly, the lights are out. Someone passed blankets and pillows around, and Dream's alcohol riddled brain can't seem to figure out that it's sleepy time. All that Dream knows is that he's heart broken, and the alcohol mixed with pain doesn't really solve anything, just postpones it or makes it worse. He can feel George's breath on his neck, since George had opted to share the floor with him, Sapnap at their feet.

Bad and Skeppy took the couch, Karl curled up in the arm chair, and Dream presumes that Quackity went to the bathroom and accidentally fell asleep there. George's hand is barely touching Dream's side and he wants nothing more than to curl into George and fall asleep, but he knows he'd be taking advantage, so he silently hopes that George will shift closer, or that George will reach out and grab him, but then sleep pulls at his mind, and he succumbs.

_No one's gotta know what we do_   
_Hit me up when you're bored_

Two days pass, and Dream swears that his hangover is still hanging around. Alas, all he can do is take medicine and drink water. Dream's phone vibrates and his screen lights up with a snapchat notification from George. Dream clicks on it, and it's a picture of a frying pan with some eggs in it, and the caption saying 'I raided your fridge, now get down here and eat breakfast' and Dream replies with a picture of himself cuddled down into the blankets, his caption a simple 'No'. Dream hears muffled cursing coming from downstairs, and he laughs quietly to himself.

George responds with a picture of his face, mock anger as his emotion, and the caption says 'If I have to come up there, you won't like it' and Dream smirks lightly to himself, before deciding to be defiant. He takes a screenshot and leaves George on read. A few minutes go by before he hears a "Dream! Get your ass down here or so help me!" Dream rolls his eyes, before getting dressed and descending down the stairs.

  
_'Cause I live down the street, so we meet_   
_When you need it, it's yours_   
_All I hear is..._

It's late in the day, the sunset shining through the windows, a warm mug of tea is warming Dream's unreasonably cold hands. He lives in Florida for fuck's sake, why is he so cold? George comes and stands beside him, his eyes casted out towards the sunset as well. Much like the night they all got horrendously drunk, Dream is struck again by how fucking beautiful George is. The sun may be blinding, but George is absolutely radiant. Dream swears he sees rays of sunshine everytime he looks into George's eyes. They're molten lava, and Dream swears George's hands would burn him if George ever did touch him.

Dream would give his life if it meant he could have George in his bed for one night, making sounds for Dream and Dream only. He would easily let the sun burn him into a crisp if it meant he could feel George pressed up against him, his hands leaving behind trails of fire, his eyes burning holes right through Dream's heart and soul, leaving him breathless. Dream would give everything he had if it meant George could be his.

He'd happily die for the man watching the sunset with him. He sips his tea, wishing the heat against his lips was George instead.

_Nothing feels better than this_   
_Nothing feels better_   
_Nothing feels better than this_   
_Nothing feels better, oh, nah_

George is pressed lightly to his side, some stupid movie playing in the background, but Dream hasn't paid a single second of attention to it. Not when George is asleep, his body slightly leaned towards Dream, the heat George is putting off does things to Dream's mind. His hands want, want, want. His heart needs, needs, needs. His heart fucking bleeds for the man beside him. Dream is so fucking screwed, had been from the beginning, from the first interaction. Dream knew from the second they first spoke, he'd been gone. Nobody would ever make him feel like George has, the need pulsing through his veins, thrumming underneath his skin like he might die without it.

His blood burns, it feels like he's being burned from the inside out, and he can't get enough of it. He easily curls an arm around George, and George curls closer, his head resting on Dream's shoulder, his breath fanning across the skin of Dream's neck, and _fuck_ , Dream is _so_ goddamn screwed.

_We don't gotta hide_   
_This is what you like, I admit_   
_Nothing feels better than this_

Dream wakes up, his everything hurts. His neck aches from sleeping wrong, and his legs hurt from being curled up for so long. When he notices the feeling of a body pressed to him he forgets all about his aches and pains. He takes in George, who has his face pressed into Dream's chest, one arm tucked to his own chest, the other throw haphazardly around Dream's waist. George's breathing is still deep, still even, and Dream would be damned to hell before he disturbs George. So he watches instead, memorizing everything because he knows the second that George wakes, there will be an awkward, tense silence that Dream is way too underprepared to handle.

Everything is still, and quiet, and Dream just breathes. Dream feels at home, safe, comforted, like this is what he was made for. Hell, he would let God (or whatever made the universe) turn him onto a pillow on George's bed if it meant falling sleep next to him every night.

Dream's heart breaks, just a little more, because George is George, and Dream was never good at doing things for himself anyway. George is unobtainable, and maybe that's why Dream feels like this. Maybe he's in love with never being able to find happiness. Maybe it's all he's ever known.

_You say we're just friends, but I swear_   
_When nobody's around_

It's George's last night in Florida. There's a storm brewing outside, however. Power lines have been knocked down, rain beating against the roof as the wind howls outside. They're sat in the dark in Dream's bedroom, candles lightly the space and casting a low glow across the room. Dream and George are sitting on Dream's bed, playing a card game. The game they're playing? Unimportant. What is important is the fact that their knees are touching, and George is slouched so that he's sort of in Dream's personal space, but Dream has never given less than a flying fuck when it came to George and personal space.

Dream is suddenly struck by a bout of bravery, one that he knows had no right to rear it's ugly head, but the word comes tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop it, "Stay."

George looks up suddenly, straightening his back, and Dream has to suppress a huff of disappointment at George not being in his space anymore, "What?"

Well, Dream's already _leapt_ , why not _fall_?

"Stay, here, with me."

George's eyebrows furrow, his hands dropping the cards he was holding and he moves them so they're in his lap. "What do you mean?"

_Freefall._

"Stay in Florida, with me. Move in with me."

The confusion of George's face only intensifies, and Dream wants to run his fingers over George's face, lightly cup him, and ease the tension.

"But why, Dream? Has something happened?"

The earth is approaching faster than Dream likes, and now he's struck their the terror of plummeting into the ocean.

"You said on a stream you wanted to live with me, a plane ticket to Florida and a permanent room in my house, so stay with me. Don't leave me," Dream's voice cracks on the last word, tears lightly filling his vision, and he's hoping that George can't see them.

George takes a moment to understand what Dream is asking him, asking of him, and he sounds even more confused when he says, "Yeah, I said that as a joke, Dream."

The ocean curls around Dream as he falls into it, water filling his lungs.

"I know, I know, I know." The tears fall, and Dream shakes lightly. George's hands are on his shoulders, and then he's being pulled into an embrace. Dream clutches at George's shirt, his face pressed into George's neck as George rubs his back.

The water burns, his lungs can't get air, he's _drowning_.

"Dream, calm down, I'm here, okay? You're okay, just breathe, c'mon."

Dream seeps further into the ocean, his heart pumping blood too fast, his arms not working to pull himself up, his legs won't kick. He's sinking.

Dream raises one hand to George's neck, feeling his pulse beating steadily, and Dream starts to pull himself under control.

Dream is swimming, up, up _up_.

  
_You keep my hand around your neck, we connect_   
_Are you feeling it now?_

Dream leans away from George, going to pull his hand away, but George's hand covers Dream's on the side of his neck. Dream looks down into George's eyes, and something akin to realization settles in George's eyes. Dream feels like George has seen his darkest secret, and hell, he probably had, but that isn't important right now. What is important is the way George is looking at him, as if he just figured out the biggest secret of the world.

"You love me, Dream, don't you?"

Dream laughs lightly, "It took you long enough, not like I'd been saying it for months."

George smiles at him easily, "Yeah, but I thought it was all jokes if I'm being honest."

"You've never been good at reading a room, George. I'm pretty sure the fans knew from the get go. I've known for months, actually, the way I feel about you." George looks away, briefly looking at the window, rain still pelting against it. "Tell me, Dream. How do you feel about me?"

Dream's breath catches in his throat. He'd already jumped once today, but look where that got him. Maybe this time George will be there to catch him.

"I love you. You're so kind, amazing, beautiful. You're everything that I'm not, and maybe that's why I love you so much. I aspire to be who you are. You are selfless, whereas I am selfish. The entire time you've been here, I've wanted nothing more than to take you apart by my hands, spread you so thin you won't know up from down, make you so brainless the only thing you can say is my name. I want you like I have never wanted anything else in my life."

George's eyes are dark, but Dream knows that his words affected the brit, his heart had started racing the second Dream started speaking. "Was it up to your standards," Dream whispers to George, barely audible over the storm raging outside. George smirks at him lightly, "No, maybe I need a demonstration?"

Dream's breath catches in his throat, and the sound has George laughing, and then Dream is pouting. "Don't laugh at me, Gogy, my feelings are hurt, wounded," Dream flies back against the foot of the bed dramatically, the back of his hand pressed to his forehead.

Suddenly, there's a weight on Dream's thighs, and then George is gripping his wrists in both hands, "Don't be dramatic, Dreamie, you're making yourself look bad," and George presses Dream's hands above his head, and okay. Dream had no idea he liked this, but okay. George shifts on his knees, and Dream fully understands that George is on him, straddling him, actually touching Dream like Dream has wanted for eons, and Dream's blood thrums for more.

"George, please," Dream's eyes are pleading, he wants to touch George, pull him closer, fucking kiss him. His heart aches at the thought, he wants that so bad. George must see the desperation, because his features soften and then George leans forward, face barely an inch from Dream's and he says, "Please what, Dream?"

Dream looks at him, unimpressed. The fucking audacity of this man, he swears. "George, touch me, kiss me, fuck me, please I don't care just do something."

Apparently that caught George's attention, the brit raises an eyebrow, "fuck you? I didn't know you were a bottom, Dream."

Dream's face burns hot from the accidental confession. To be fair, he only experimented on his own, never with another man. So, there's that at least.

"Are you gonna fuck me or not, George? Maybe I should flip us over and fuck you."

George smirks again, "that won't be necessary, baby. Now how about you put that pretty little mouth to work and kiss me, you've been dying for it haven't you?"

Fuck, this is a side of George that Dream had no idea even existed. He wants to hear more of it, wants to feel it, wants to fucking cherish it. Dream sighs shakily, flexing his fingers anxiously, and George pulls his hands away, resting them beside Dream's head. "C'mon Dream, kiss me." Dream, never one to turn down a challenge, decides to just do it. He brings his prone hands to George's face and grips him lightly.

As much as Dream just wants to take, this will be their first kiss, and sue him but he wants it to be good, gentle. Damn, he really is soft underneath all of it.

He brings George down, and closes his eyes. He gently presses his lips to George's and he feels warmth flow through his bloodstream. 

That's really the only thing he could describe it as. Warmth. George is the sun, and Dream is the moon. They revolve around each other, always knowing the other person, and its beautiful. An eclipse, if you will. Dream pulls George closer, slotting their mouths more firmly together. George leans closer, and Dream feels a hand on his waist, George's thumb brushing against his skin where his shirt had ridden up when Dream threw himself backwards.

Dream sighs into the kiss, arching his back slightly, chasing George's fingers as they pull away. George backs away first, and then he pulls Dream into a sitting position. Dream wraps his arms around George's waist and pulls him so they're chest to chest, and then George's hands are in his hair, and then George is kissing him. Kisses from George, well Dream had imagined they'd be gentle, soft, giving you a feeling of softness and sweet, loving nothings.

The real George, however, is a drug. His mouth slots with Dream's so easily, demanding, sucking the life out of Dream. George moans when Dream pulls him even closer, leaving no space between them, and Dream takes this opportunity to slide his tongue into George's mouth. Dream keens, the sound quiet, almost covered by the hurricane raging outside. George slides his tongue along Dream's and uses his teeth to lightly scrap Dream's tongue as Dream pulls backwards. Dream moans, and then George is flipping them around so that they are at the headboard of the bed instead of the foot.

George pulls at the hem of Dream's shirt, and Dream lifts his arms so that George can easily slide it off of him. George then removes his own shirt, before going right back to kissing Dream. Dream slides his hands down George's back, nails slightly scraping as their tongues slide together and intertwine. Dream pulls away, lack of oxygen being a thing, you know how it is. "George, please, please, do something, anything please."

George laughs against the skin of Dream's neck. "I've got you baby, don't worry. I'll take such good care of you."

_'Cause I am_   
_I got so high the other night, I swear to God_   
_Felt my feet lift the ground_

Dream wakes up, his head pounding. He reaches for George but finds nothing as his hands slide against the cold mattress. He blinks heavily, and then sits up. Where is George? They had fallen asleep last night after, well, making love. George had been so gentle, so fucking caring, it broke Dream's heart but sewn in back together all in one. Last night was the best fucking thing that had ever happened to him. Dream hears a bird chirp outside, and he looks over, confused.

The news had said yesterday before the power outage that the hurricane would last for at least two days, so why is it sunny? Dream opens the curtains fully, and there aren't even any puddles. It was like the storm didn't even happen. His phone pings, so he answers it. It's a snapchat notification from George. Dream smiles lightly, thinking maybe George had made breakfast for them again, he clicks open the picture.

It's George, in his room, back home, away from Dream.

The caption is 'I made it home! Thank you for letting me stay, we should do it again sometime!'

Dream looks at the date, George left two days ago, and judging from the sticky feeling between his legs, what he thought was last night was in fact a dream.

Dream's heart breaks, and his eyes leak tears, the fire in his veins rears to life as he sinks to the floor and cries.

All he wanted was that night, all he wanted was George to love him, all he wanted was to be happy.

He can never have George, can he?

**Author's Note:**

> literally wrote this for the lyrics "you say we're just friends but i swear when nobody's around"
> 
> should i do a part 2?


End file.
